


Brooklyn Nine-Nine Tumblr Prompts

by Colourcodedbinders



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Just read the chapter summaries, Peraltiago, Tumblr Prompt, i don't know how to tag sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourcodedbinders/pseuds/Colourcodedbinders
Summary: Collection of b99 tumblr prompts:Number 10:Their son comes in the wee hours of the morning, just a bare half an hour before dawn, and the moment they lay eyes on his tiny, crying form, Jake and Amy Santiago-Peralta know that this is, without a doubt, another one of the most beautiful days of their lives.ORRachel meets Eli.





	1. Not Quite Friends (yet)

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr : hey babe are you taking prompts? If you are could you write this AU where Amy is new to the squad and she breaks up with her bf she isn't close with the squad (yet) so she doesn't tell them and kinda suffers in secret? Jake notices and tries to cheer her up
> 
> In order to keep this as canon compliant as possible, I changed it up a teeny weeny bit. I hope it still delivers, though!
> 
> (Half-assed because DID Y'ALL SEE THAT EPISODE? DAMN SON.)
> 
> Set pre-canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 1:
> 
> Of course she doesn't tell them when her longtime boyfriend Carl dumps her. It's none of their business really. She isn't their friend, and why would someone be interested in a colleague's love life?
> 
> (She ignores the way a nagging voice inside her head tells her that really, all she wants to do is tell someone. Kylie's been busy all week and Amy doesn't exactly have anyone else to talk to.)
> 
> Point is, she knows they won't care, so she doesn't say anything.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Amy got dumped, and she doesn't have anyone on her new squad to talk about it with.

Amy Santiago's been working at the nine-nine for almost six months, and somehow, she feels like it's been the longest six months of her life.

Six months of endless teasing from her partner, Peralta. Six months of being terrified everytime Rosa Diaz walks by her desk. Six months of having to plug her ears every time Detective Boyle sees someone "incorrectly" use the toaster oven. 

And look, she's aware that it's perfectly good to maintain strictly professional relationships with her co-workers, recommended, even, but would it really hurt to have just one friend on the squad? 

It isn't that she hasn't tried. Oh, she's tried. She smiles at them when they talk to her and she comes with them to the bar every Friday. She even told Charles that his Halloween costume looked nice, recently. At this point, it seems to her that these people just weren't made for her to be buddies with.

So of course she doesn't tell them when her longtime boyfriend Carl dumps her. It's none of their business really. She isn't their friend, and why would someone be interested in a colleague's love life?

(She ignores the way a nagging voice inside her head tells her that really, all she wants to do is tell someone. Kylie's been busy all week and Amy doesn't exactly have anyone else to talk to.)

Point is, she knows they won't care, so she doesn't say anything.

They don't seem to notice that something's off, either. Diaz still nods at her like she always does, cordial but uninterested. Gina, their newly appointed civil administrator, pokes fun of her outfit, as expected, and Captain McGinley, as always, looks like he's half asleep.

For all they know, Amy Santiago is still going out with the super cute guy they swear is out of her league.

She's vaguely aware of them drunkenly laughing at a dancing Sergeant at a table on the other end of the bar as she allows herself to drown into her thoughts, her mind wheeling at a mile a minute. 

They'd been going great, really. A strong, steady, serious relationship. She and Carl had been set up by her best friend and ever since their first dinner, things had seemed to click between them. They were a perfect match, on paper. He was the focused, ambitious accountant, she was the fierce, determined cop, and together, they were all kisses and affectionate terms and shared goals.

Until he'd decided that he'd had enough of her having to spontaneously run to the precinct while they were together. He'd said that it almost seemed as though she valued her report files and her week-long stakeouts more than she did him.

It wasn't until he pointed it out that she realized that he was right.

The break up has saddened her, of course it has, but the grief is nothing compared to the bubbling fear inside, the fear that maybe Amy Santiago isn't meant to date. That she's destined to someday become captain of her own precinct, but never to become someone's better half.

It's a strange fear to have.

"Santiago!" Detective Peralta yells behind her then, pulling her out of her reverie, his usual enthusiasm seemingly multiplied tenfold.

"What?" she groggily replies, turning around to face him.

He comes and takes a seat across from her at the booth, and raised his eyebrows in question, a grin plastered onto his face.

"Why are you so sad? Did someone use a semicolon instead of a colon while texting you again?"

"It's nothing, man, leave me alone."

His expression sobers a little then, but his tone is still light, teasing.

"Doesn't seem like nothing. Gina says your miserable vibes are so strong she's feeling secondhand sadness because of you."

"Look, I'm alright. Go talk to Diaz."

"Rosa? Nah, she's talked enough for the day. Tell me what's up."

"It's none of your business, Peralta."

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, a hand hitting his chest in true dramatic fashion, "I am your partner. I will have to deal with your sadness at work. It is all of my business."

She wants to punch him then, but what for, she isn't sure. For being stubborn? For (seemingly) caring? For being the only person all day who's asked her what was wrong?

Finally, she gives in with a sigh, and mumbles her confession to him.

"Carl broke up with me."

"Your car broke what?"

"Carl broke up with me," she says louder, "He thought I cared more about my job than I did about him."

"And you didn't correct him because..."

"Because he was right? I don't know. I'm confused."

"Don't be," the man says then, his voice calmer. "It's okay to love your job more than a guy."

"You think so?"

"Definitely. We have the coolest job in the world. And I can't speak for anyone else, but you, Santiago? You really lucked out when it came to partners."

"I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

"Hey! I happen to be very good at relationships."

"Oh, yeah?" she teases, "And what exactly was the last mature relationship you were in?"

"I choose not to answer that question."

She rolls her eyes at him, and he smiles at her, taking a swig of his drink.

"Hey, Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"We're all your friends, you know. You can tell us when a guy dumps you. We carry enough weapons necessary to make him regret his entire life."

"That's illegal" she argues. 

"Not if the weapon is a shirtless Hitchcock and a hungry Scully. Sheesh, calm down, woman. No one said firearms."

"Oh God."

"Just try to remember that we're a precinct full of single cops. We all understand your struggles, Santiago. Maybe you should try talking to us, once in a blue moon."

He smiles at her and leaves after that, his hand briefly resting on her shoulder in reassurance before he walks away.

Amy casts a look back to the table he's gone to, where the rest of her squad is seated, nodding seriously at something he's just said, and she swears she saw both Rosa and Gina glance at her for a split second. 

She doesn't dwell on it, though, because soon enough she's grabbing her coat and bidding everyone farewell as she steps out on the cold, Brooklyn street and begins walking home.

It doesn't hit her until later that night that Jake had referred to them as friends, and although she isn't quite sure that they're there yet, she does tell the squad the next time a guy dumps her, and they do, as promised, unleash a shirtless and hungry duo of detectives onto the poor soul.


	2. Amy Santiago, you are one sexy beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 2:
> 
> He laughs through the kiss, his arm tightening around her waist as he pulls her further into him, and for a second, he lets himself think "Screw rule number three, we are soo going to have sex right now."
> 
> Except they don't. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Jake wants to have sex. Amy doesn't. (yet)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr asked: Would you mind writing a fanfic of Jake and Amy not having sex right away like Amy planned because she's scared she won't be good at it? (She's seen Jake's girlfriends and they're all super sexy and flirty and confident and they probably use sexy underwear that turns him on unlike her Grandma clothes she uses) and he confesses he only made the sex tape jokes cuz it was his awkward way of saying he would totally have sex with her Sorry if it's too weird you don't have to write it only if u want 2
> 
> I changed it up quite a bit because I didn't think Amy would be all that insecure about her abilities when it came to sex, so it ended up sounding pretty messy, but I hope I did your prompt justice! Sorry if this wasn't what you expected. I'm mostly good at feelings, sexual attraction just isn't my expertise.
> 
> It's half-assed but I'm way too tired to correct it, so enjoy!

Jake Peralta feels the need to pinch himself for about twenty-eight reasons at this specific moment in time. 

One of them is that he truly believes he's living a nightmare, with Holt having to leave the precinct and Dozerman trying to take his place, as if just anyone could replace the somehow painfully stoic yet unimaginably lovable man by marching into the precinct on a random-ass day.

The other twenty seven reasons are that he is convinced he's in the middle of an insanely crazy dream because he's making out with Amy Santiago against her bedroom door and she's letting him. Encouraging him, even, with her hands in his hair and his legs bracketed on either side of his as her lips move against his own, almost as though they were familiarizing themselves with him.

He laughs through the kiss, his arm tightening around her waist as he pulls her further into him, and for a second, he lets himself think "Screw rule number three, we are soo going to have sex right now."

Except they don't. 

Right when his hands find their way to the back of her bright, red dress, Amy pulls back, still all deep breaths and sin in her eyes. She places a hand on his chest, pushing him away just slightly, and speaks, a little apologetic but mostly resolute. 

"Let's not have sex right away," she recites.

He would be lying if he said that he wasn't a little disappointed at first, but eventually, he does end up nodding at her, an understanding smile on his face, as he leans in and places a chaste kiss on her lips. The arm she has against his chest finds it's way back around his neck and Amy pulls his face down, resting her forehead against his.

"You don't have to leave if you don't want to," she says then, although it sounds more like a question, and Jake kind of wants to knock some sense into her for using that tone because in what world would he ever say no to that?

They stay like that, Jake in a mostly unbuttoned shirt and boxers, and Amy in her pyjamas, talking until sleep takes over them, bright smiles etched upon their features.

The next time they get close to doing it, sexy-stylez, is a week after they've begun dating. The Vulture's finally backed off of them, and when they get to her apartment that night, with Amy starting a spontaneous makeout session right in the middle of their Fast and Furious marathon, Jake feels like he's on top of the world. She's got his back pressed against the couch as her fingers roam over his t-shirt, his button-up long abandoned on the living room floor. He holds her steady as straddles his hips, kissing her back fervently, his attention undivided. All he can feel in that moment is Amy, Amy, Amy. 

He turns them over so that he's on top, and she lets him, too, a mischievous smile splitting across her face. His fingers work on unbuttoning her shirt, slipping his hands around her middle as she slides it off of her arms. Slowly, slowly he brings his mouth back to hers, smiling as she gasps against his lips when his pelvis rubs against hers just slightly. He's right about unclasp her bra, internally screaming with joy when she does that thing again.

That thing where she pulls back and gives him this sorry look that says "not yet". 

"Let's, uh, finish the movie," she says to him, craning her head over to point at the tv with it.

He doesn't try to hide his disappointment. (Not that he can, if he wanted to. Little Jakey got wayyy too excited there, and Jake's going to have to suffer for it.) However, because he is a good boyfriend, he smiles at her and climbs off, letting her get off the couch and go look for a t-shirt to wear.

When she gets back, they both act like nothing had ever happened, with her leaning into him, practically sitting on his lap, and his fingers running over the expanse of exposed skin at her waist.

The next time she stops them, almost two days later as they're still at first base on his massage chair, he finally asks her why.

She's got her hands all over his chest and he's gladly returning the favor, and then just like that, for no reason that Jake can understand, she does it again. She backs up and looks apologetically at him.

"Ames," he says then, his voice soft and full of concern, "is everything okay?"

"Of course," she nods, "Everything's great. You're great. We're all great."

"Then can I know why you keep doing... This?" he asks, vaguely gesturing between them.

She sighs and gets off his lap, going over to sit on the one next to it.

"We're doing great, you know?" she says, "I don't want to have sex too early and ruin that."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I guess it's just that we have an equal footing when it comes to this relationship right now, and I might be afraid that going, um, further, might ruin that."

He's genuinely and completely confused at this point. (Well, he always is, but more so right now.)

"How so?"

"Well, I don't know, we're very different people. And I'm not usually the type of girl you go for, so -"

"Please don't say that you're not having sex with me because you're afraid you're not good enough at it. Because I might just go smash my head against a wall if you do."

"What? No! I'm good at sex. I'm great at sex." 

"Overconfident much."

"Jake," she sighs, "I'm not afraid that I'm not good enough. I'm afraid that maybe once we do end up doing it, you'll decide that it's not your favourite thing to do."

"So you're afraid that I won't like doing it with you, even though you claim you're a master."

"I never said I was a master."

"You implied it."

"Not the point."

"Right," he says, "so what I'm getting from this, Amy, and please correct me if I'm wrong, is that although you are a sex goddess, I will not enjoy smooching booties with you because you're not 'my type'?"

She doesn't correct him.

"You're exactly my type!" he exclaims then. "I wouldn't be here if you weren't my type. You are so my type. I am incredibly attracted to your body, Santiago. You're the sexiest cop I've ever met."

"We both know that's a lie."

"Fine. But it's not my fault Captain Holt has that sexy voice. Really gets me going. He's the only cop sexier than you are."

"Stop! Jake, that is so inappropriate, gosh."

"Point is, Amy, that you are one sexy beast."

"Doesn't always seem like you feel that way," she mutters to herself, and Jake lets out a dramatic gasp as he hears it.

"Is this about the sex tapes? Look, Ames, I can totally explain the sex tapes. Charles once told me that they were my way of dealing with the fact that I totally wanted to take you to the bedroom but couldn't, and I didn't believe him at first, but then I was sitting at my desk one day, you know? And then it hit me. He was right. I totally wanted to see your butt. That's why I kept making fun of you. It's like that pigtail thing he told me, where I only pull them to get your attention. I promise to you that I fantasize about your body. You want to hear about this dream I had like nights ago? It starts with you in my bed, and you've got this mermaid shell bra on, and then -"

"Okay, shut up. I believe you. You think I'm sexy. Good?" She asks, an amused smile on her face.

"Why do I have a feeling that you don't actually believe me?" He teases.

"I do!"

"I don't think so."

"I do."

"You don't."

"Jake."

"Prove it."

"How?"

He crawls over to her and kisses her then, his hand pressed firmly against the side of her face and as she relaxes and brings hers up to the side of his neck.

(They don't actually have sex that night, but a week later, when Jake's got her pressed against his mattress, she doesn't do the thing again, and Jake cannot count his lucky stars enough.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment here or at colourcodedbinders on Tumblr! If you have prompts for me, I'd be glad to write something for you!
> 
> Hope you didn't barf :)


	3. I can't find her left shoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 3:
> 
> Jake cannot, for the life of him, find Rae's left shoe.
> 
> It's cute little red piece, with a shiny black bow on it, and it is, Jake stresses, the perfect shoe to match with the dress Amy had bought for their daughter to wear on this occasion. 
> 
> The occasion, of course, being an over-the-top party being thrown by Charles for Nikolaj's seventh birthday. It's being held at some super fancy banquet hall, with an intricately designed three-tiered cake, and the Boyles even sent out printed invitations to everyone. 
> 
> Jake swears that the event costs more than his wedding did.
> 
> OR
> 
> Some shameless Peraltiago family fluff, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr : hello yes could you please write some domestic fluff or maybe like something about the peraltiago family (tbh I'm just in need of cute stuff to get me through not having b99 this week) thank you so much
> 
> I HOPE I DELIVERED. I REALLY LIKE THIS UPDATE. IT'S ADORABLE. ALSO I'M SORRY IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT.
> 
> Also I do not claim ownership to the fandomwide headcanon that Jake and Amy would name their kid Rae but I fully approve of it so, hehe. I have no idea where it originated. I am an oblivious person.
> 
> UPDATE: it belongs to the-pontiac-bandit on tumblr :)

Jake cannot, for the life of him, find Rae's left shoe.

It's cute little red piece, with a shiny black bow on it, and it is, Jake stresses, the perfect shoe to match with the dress Amy had bought for their daughter to wear on this occasion. 

The occasion, of course, being an over-the-top party being thrown by Charles for Nikolaj's seventh birthday. It's being held at some super fancy banquet hall, with an intricately designed three-tiered cake, and the Boyles even sent out printed invitations to everyone. 

Jake swears that the event costs more than his wedding did.

Charles has also informed everyone to dress, quote on quote, "as if you were Cinderella attaining your Prince's ball," which makes the disappeared shoe a very, very frustrating development.

(Of course, he is aware that Cinderella also only had one shoe by the time she left the ball, but that doesn't matter. Rachel Peralta is no Cinderella. She's better. Way better.)

"Where did you put it, you sneaky monster?" he asks his one year-old, picking her up and staring at her questioningly. 

She babbles an incoherent response, nodding at him as she does so.

"I thought so," he answers, placing her back on his bed and crouching to look under it. "You hid it somewhere."

As an answer to that, Rae squeals as she charges towards him on all fours, and her squeal quickly morphs into a full-blown belly laugh when her father catches her as she is about to crawl off the edge of the bed.

"What, you think you're a cliff diver?" 

Rachel answers him in her own language, repeatedly slapping his face with both her hands. Then she stops and stares at him before grabbing his nose with her little fingers and directing it towards her mouth. 

"Ew, no, you're getting spit on my face! Amyyyy!" 

Rachel giggles and continues attempting to eat his nose.

"Ames! What have you turned my child into?"

Amy comes running out of the shower seconds later, hair still dripping wet and towel wrapped around her torso.

"What happened?"

She looks at Jake with a worried expression, but then her gaze flickers to her daughter, mouth on Jake's face as he tries his best to gently pry her away, and an involuntary laughter escapes her.

Finally wiggling the kid off of himself and placing her on the ground, Jake fixes his wife with a mock offended glare.

"Nice to know that you'll never defend me if Rae wants to turn me into lunch."

"Aw, babe. If it ever comes to the point where I have to choose between you and Rachel, your butt doesn't stand a chance."

"You've known me for ten years! She's been here for one."

"And nine months before that."

"I half-made her happen!"

"Technicalities."

"My sperm is not a technicality, Santiago."

"Santiago-Peralta," she corrects him, crouching down to pick her crawling daughter off the ground. In front of her Jake is still standing, the mask of fake annoyance still in place, and she smiles a little as she walks up to him and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips.

He smiles at her then, leaning down to peck her lips once more, and then planting a long one on Rae's cheek. She hands her to him and tells him to get out of the room while she gets changed.

When Amy closes the door behind him, Jake places Rae on the couch, combing her short, curly hair with his fingers as best as he can before his gaze lands on her naked left foot and he remembers. 

He still has no idea where her shoe is.

He almost curses as he crouches down, leaning to see if it's under the couch. Or the coffee table. Or the carpet. It isn't, and the disappointed look Amy gives him when she sees him sprawled across the living room floor in his blue button up and black pants leads him to believe that his wife is not entirely impressed with his fathering skills.

"I can't find her shoe," he offers as an explanation, standing up and shrugging as he runs his down his shirt in an attempt to smooth out the creases. 

She asks him if he's looked under the bed, inside the drawers their kid has just learned how to open, in the toy box, and when Jake nods every single time, adding that he still hasn't been able to find it, she sighs and begins shuffling things around in search of the stupid thing, as well. 

"Put on another pair," she sighs after a couple of minutes of fruitless searching. "She has black shoes somewhere. And take off your shirt, it's a mess."

"But they were perfect for her dress, Ames!" he exclaims. "And the black ones are ugly. Aren't they, baby?"

Rae stares at him in silence.

"See? She agrees."

Amy shakes her head and heads to the kitchen, picking up a dirty baby bottle off the counter and beginning to wash it.

"We don't have the time to look for it right now. Charles is going to kill us if we show up late."

"My daughter is not going anywhere without proper footwear."

"Jake."

"I'm serious."

Amy fills up the bottle and caps it before placing it into her baby bag, then heads over to the couch and takes her child into her arms.

"Go find a pair of shoes that fit to your taste, then," she tells him, "And seriously, take off your shirt and iron it again."

He goes into the room and does both of those things, grinning widely at an unimpressed Amy Santiago as he pulls a pair of red Converse onto his daughter's feet.

("I regret marrying you," she says to him once they're in the car. "It's like I vowed to spend the rest of my life with a sneaker-obsessed thirteen year-old."

"I love you, too," is his response.)

When they get to the party, the couple is (not really) surprised by the grandeur of it all. There are decorations on every inch of the dining hall's large walls, and at the far end of the room, where the buffet is, stand a life-size ice sculpture of what Jake assumes is supposed to be Nikolaj.

He briefly wonders if his best had to rob a bank in order to pull this party off. 

It turns out he didn't, (although Jake still doubts it) and the party ends up being a lot less disappointing than the detective had expected it to be. Sure, there was a close call when Charles insisted on having Niko and his "new girlfriend" (It's some random girl from his class, the kid swears,) play the NewlyWed Game, but Gina managed to have the crisis averted. 

All in all, the event may be a teeny bit over the top for a seven year-old's birthday, but at least it isn't a disaster. And in the end, that's all that counts, right? 

He eventually finds his way back to his family, sitting down in the chair next to Amy's and draping an arm around her shoulders as she bounces little Rachel on her lap.

"The cake was good," she comments.

"Really? I didn't try it. Totally thought it had paprika icing or something."

She chuckles at that. On her lap, Rae tries to wriggle free of her grasp and crawl into the the floor.

"I don't know if I should let her..." Amy begins.

"It's alright, it's clean" Jake assures her. "I heard Gina threaten some guy on the phone this morning. Said she'd wax his chest hair if these floors weren't sparkling for the party."

Amy nods and lets her daughter slide off her lap and sit at her feet, two building blocks in her hands.

Jake feels his wife leaning her head on his shoulder. 

"So," he starts, "why do you think your daughter went all cannibal on me today?"

"She's probably teething."

"She didn't bite, though. Just some very sloppy licking, really."

"Usually kids only do weird stuff like that when they've seen someone else do it."

"Yeah, but who has she seen eating my nose? Unless she dreams of this stuff, in which case, I am highly disturbed..."

"Jake," Amy says.

"... Or she's seen someone who looks like me have their nose eaten, which honestly is even more..."

"Jake," she calls again, louder.

"... But then that's just weird, you know?"

"Jake," Amy says once more, shaking him this time.

He casts a confused look at her, but then turns his head in the direction of her gaze and feels his lips tug at the corners.

In front of them, blocks abandoned, Rachel has both of her palms against the cold floor, both feet spread wide apart with her butt in the air. Slowly, her legs wobbling a little, she straightens, her hands leaving the ground as she holds them in front of her for balance, kind of like a zombie.

His kid just stood up. For the first time ever. At Charles's ridiculously over-the-top party.

Rae stands there, legs shaking slightly as she smiles at Amy, bringing her hands in to applaud herself. Amy catches on and begins clapping as well, and Jake joins in soon after. In her excitement, Rae falls flat on her butt and giggles.

Rosa walks up to the couple.

"Did your kid just-"

"Yup," Jake replies. "Wanna see her do it again?"

The woman doesn't answer, but wordlessly holds her hand out for the baby to hold on to as she tries to get up again. She does, and, much to everyone's surprise, manages to take a small step forward as she clutches on to Rosa's hand for dear life.

"Got it on camera," Gina proudly announces from behind Amy, startling her. "Your little kid's all grown up, Jakey. Time for a new one."

Jake smiles at his old friend and picks Rae up. He then casts a fond look at Amy. 

"I wouldn't be totally opposed to that."

It's maybe an hour later, on the ride back home, with their daughter fast asleep in the backseat, that Amy confesses to him with a shy smile that she was thinking that she might need to go purchase a couple of pregnancy tests from the pharmacy the next day. 

She tells him not to get his hopes up, and he tells her that he hasn't, but every time he glanced into the rearview mirror and sees his dozing child's face in the little rectangular object, he can't help but think of the fact that maybe in a year or two, he might just be able to re-live this entire night all over again.

(Oh, and, by the way, Amy finds Rae's red shoe under the fridge two days later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the things Rae does here are inspired by things my little cousin does, so although they shouldn't be far off from things actual one year-olds do, it might not be THE most accurate description of an average kid that age.
> 
> FUN FACT: The beginning of this was supposed to be Amy looking for the shoe while Jake showered, but I love this version way more, so.
> 
> Leave a comment here or at colourcodedbinders on tumblr!!! If you want me to write anything for ya, do not hesitate! I'll be more than glad to do it.
> 
> Hope you didn't barf. :)


	4. As Perfect As it Gets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 4:
> 
> She tries not to groan as she gets off the bed, taking, soft, light steps out of the room and towards the nursery in efforts not to wake up her dozing toddler and husband. (How Jake and Rae can sleep through Eli's wailing but wake up at the slightest creak in the flooring, she still does not understand.)
> 
> OR
> 
> It's Eli's first night home and a very tired, 90% asleep Amy tries to stay up and feed him. Jake is not impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feelbending on Tumblr: do when they got home from prison! or when they bring their first child home :D
> 
> Someone who commented on I can't find her left shoe: you could turn this into a mini-series 
> 
>  
> 
> HERE! I TRIED. I DID. IT SUCKS, BUT I WAS VERY UNINSPIRED FOR THIS ONE. Turns out, I'm not very good at writing about first nights at home after labour. Who knew?
> 
> I tried my best, though. And I hope that the next prompt will be five times better than this one. Sorry if it doesn't live up to your expectations! It definitely didn't live up to mine.
> 
> Also, I did my research, and the Rae/Eli/Anna headcanon belongs to the-pontiac-bandit on tumblr!

It's three in the morning and Eli is crying. 

It isn't a new occurrence in Amy's life, to have a baby crying in the wee hours of the morning, what with Rachel and all, but just because she's used to it does not mean it gets any easier.

The fact that her entire body still aches with that inevitable soreness giving birth forces upon a woman isn't helping much, either.

She tries not to groan as she gets off the bed, taking, soft, light steps out of the room and towards the nursery in efforts not to wake up her dozing toddler and husband. (How Jake and Rae can sleep through Eli's wailing but wake up at the slightest creak in the flooring, she still does not understand.)

She steps into the nursery, cradling her three day old son as she speaks soothing words into his hair. Still the baby cries, and Amy shushes him as they make their way to the kitchen and she prepares a bottle. 

She seats herself onto the couch after that, feeding the child in her arms with her eyes half-shut and a pounding headache at her temples.

For a quick second, all she wants to do is to yell out for Jake to come out and help her. He had, so far and for the second time, been the ideal birthing partner. He'd been by her side from the moment Rosa'd called him to tell him that her water broke, and had not moved an inch away unless absolutely necessary. 

He'd been with her in the labour room, holding onto her hand and telling her that he was proud of her and that he loved her. He'd been with her when she'd woken up from an exhausted sleep a few hours later, holding her close and kissing her head. He'd brought Rachel and their friends in after that, laughing as he introduced their two year-old to her new baby brother. He'd woken up in the middle of the night every time the child needed to be fed.

He'd driven them home with bags under his eyes and had still refused to sleep unless Amy went to bed first.

But as easy as it would be to call for her husband and order him to hold their child while she cuddles into his pillow and snores on their big, comfortable bed, Amy thinks better of it.

He's done enough for three days, and she's a wife, not a monster.

(Although the idea of being a monster at this specific moment seems really, really appealing to her.)

She doesn't get the time to ponder it much, though, because soon enough there are frantic footsteps coming from the hallway, calling her name.

A disheveled Jake walks into the living room, jogging up to her with his eyes widened and a frown upon his face.

"Amy Santiago, I had told you to wake me up if Eli cried."

Amy fully closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder as he takes a seat next to her, grabbing a now sleeping Eli from her and holding him upright in order to make him burp. She wants to convince him to let her take care of Eli, to tell him to go back to bed, bit she knows that she's married the world's most stubborn man and decides to drop the conversation before it even starts. Instead, she manages a lazy smile.

"My bad."

Eli burps loudly, and Jake shakes his head as he gets up and wipes their son's face with a washcloth and takes him back to the nursery. When he gets back, Amy's still seated on the couch, eyes shut and leaning back. She feels his body plop down next to hers, and only manages to mumble something even she doesn't understand when he positions her so that her legs are on the couch and her head, in his lap.

He's running his fingers through her hair and Amy's never been more in love with this man.

"Go to sleep," she manages to sleepily whisper.

"You go to sleep," he answers back, the hand that isn't in her hair now coming to rub her back. "I've got a baby to take care of."

She doesn't exactly remember what happens after that, (although she would definitely argue that she tried to protest and help him, if someone ever asked,) but when she wakes up on the couch at six in the morning and sees her husband, Rae sleeping in his lap while he himself is snoring on a chair next to the baby's crib, Amy Santiago knows for a fact that if it's true that your life flashes in front of you for seven seconds before you die, she'd want all seven of them to be showing her this specific moment.

Because in this moment, Amy's life is just about as perfect as it gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Amy's feeding a three day old with a bottle! Are you scandalized? Don't be. I said bottle, whether it's formula or pumped breast milk in there, you decide.
> 
> 2) Jake waking up at the slightest noise but sleeping through a car explosion? Actually surprisingly realistic. I know quite a few people like that. I can sleep through a fire alarm, but I'll wake up if you drop a pin. It's weird, really.
> 
> 3) I don't know what babies are like at three am? That's true. I only deal with babies between 7 and 2 am. What happens between 2:01 and 6:59 is usually my mom's problem, so.
> 
> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> COMMENT AND/OR COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS HERE OR ON TUMBLR, I LOVE THAT. 
> 
> Feel free to give me a prompt at colourcodedbinders on tumblr! I promise I'll try my best to make it better than this one.


	5. The Mattress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> number 5:
> 
> Taxi dealer be damned, Jake lets himself look at Amy Santiago, the girl he’s managed to ruin the perfect relationship with, as she quickly taps on her keyboard, her eyes betraying the rest of extremely well put-together look as they tell him that she’s feeling a tiredness that, this time, has nothing to do with his mattress.
> 
> Or maybe it has everything to do with his mattress. Really depends on how you look at it.
> 
> OR
> 
> "The Mattress" but without Holt's wisdom and with an added bit of not-so-appropriate Amy Santiago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on tumblr: Please please please could you write me one of ur AMAZING fics! Ok here it goes Something along the lines of Jake and Amy getting into an argument about something (probably stupid knowing those two ) and this is idk a year and a bit after they’ve gotten together, they can be engaged if u want. And they have to go to a bar with the squad and Amy dresses up super sexy too make jake jealous. And who knows, you could add some lemon/ smut in their for afters

“Amy.”

“Peralta.”

She sits across from him, at her desk, and Jake can tell just how purposefully she trains her gaze on everything in the bullpen, everything but him, as she waits for her computer screen to turn on.

He knows he should probably do the same –he’s mad at her just as much as she’s mad at him, after all –but no matter how hard he tries to distract himself, how hard he tries to focus on the files sprawled out in front of him, or the faint sound of Charles complaining to Gina about something at her desk, or even on Terry (horribly) singing a song to his girls over the phone right behind him, his thoughts always come back and freeze on the same damn person. 

On Amy.

On his absolutely wonderful girlfriend that he adores so goddamn much it physically pains him that she isn’t looking up and smiling at him right now, laughing at something he’s said. It hurts him more than he’d like to admit that she won’t speak to him, that she’d spent the night at her own apartment, on her own bed, alone.

So, Taxi dealer be damned, Jake lets himself look at Amy Santiago, the girl he’s managed to ruin the perfect relationship with, as she quickly taps on her keyboard, her eyes betraying the rest of extremely well put-together look as they tell him that she’s feeling a tiredness that, this time, has nothing to do with his mattress.

Or maybe it has everything to do with his mattress. Really depends on how you look at it.

But he won’t apologize, because he’s just as mad at her as she is at him. Right?

He’s totally mad at her, furious, even, for not telling her mother about their relationship. He’s –he’s livid, angry, outraged, and all those other synonyms for mad that he doesn’t have the mind to think of right now. He is absolutely horrified.

The fact that he wants to cuddle up with her and kiss her until she finally smiles at him again means absolutely nothing to him. Because he’s mad, so, so mad.

And then she looks up at him, her weariness clear in her gaze as she gets up off her seat, and he realizes that ‘Oh, fuck it. I’m not mad at all.’

“Jake,” she addresses him for the first time that day, “Are you coming?”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes at him then, and his heart drops a little because she’s rolling her eyes in annoyance, and isn’t trying to repress a smile as she does it.

“The perp. I’ve found the address for an old apartment I think he may be using as a drop-off site. We’re going to go take a look.”

“A stakeout?” he asks, hating himself for the way his voice pitches a little higher, “Are you sure you, uh, don’t want to take Charles? Or Rosa?”

“This is your case. Why would I take Rosa?”

Of course she would never let a personal issue jeopardize her work a second time. This is Amy Santiago.

Jake nods and gets up, grabbing his jacket and following his girlfriend into the elevator.

The ride to the location is uncomfortably quiet, and it doesn’t get any better when they park in front of the old building, the silence pressing on Jake’s chest as if it weighed a ton and was slowly closing in on his lungs until he finally couldn’t breathe.

He needs to breathe. (Because, you know, breathing does keep you alive and all.)

So he breaks the silence, his voice a quiet, tentative whisper.

“Hey, Ames?”

“What?”

It’s not the most affectionate tone of voice, per se, but it isn’t exactly dismissive, either, and at this point, the detective’ll take what he gets.

“This stakeout could take a long time.”

“I am well aware.”

“And you and I are stuck in this car until something happens. Alone. Nobody but you and me and nothing to make three.”

She turns to look at him, tearing her gaze away from the windshield for the first time since she’d gotten into the vehicle.

“If you suggest we have sex in here I am going to literally rip your head off.”

He doesn’t mean to laugh at that, he really doesn’t, but it’s just that this is so not what he expected her to say, but now she’s said it, and it makes him feel a little less like shit when he sees her smile at him for that short, sweet, split-second.

“No,” he manages as they both slip out of their brief moment, “I was thinking that maybe we should, you know, talk. Because we’re adults in an adult relationship.”

He doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s tensed up, her shoulders rising just a little like they always do when she’s stressed out, with her hands fiddling with each other right above her lap.

“Okay,” she breathes out after a long, stretched out silence, “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us. And our fight.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell my mom about us,” she says then, her gaze still plastered on the windshield, whether to keep a look out for the perp or to avoid eye-contact with him, Jake can’t tell.

“It’s okay. I know she can be... tough.”

“Yeah,” Amy smiles slightly, turning to face him, “she can be.”

He nods and smiles back.

“I’m sorry I can’t get a mattress for us.”

Her smile fades a little, and she tilts her head in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?”

“I’m broke, Ames.”

“Jake,” she says a little more purposefully then, “it’s worth it.”

She doesn’t have to say the “I’m worth it,” out loud for him to hear it. 

”Maybe,” he tries, “maybe in a couple of months? When I’ve got a better hold of my finances?”

She replies to that with a cordial nod, turning back to face the front, her back and shoulders straightened out as she goes back to maintaining her stupid perfect posture. The invisible weight makes its way back to Jake, slowly pressing onto him once more.

“I –we could spend nights at your place until then?” he tries in a desperate attempt to chase the awkwardness away.

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“The mattress isn’t just for me, Jake. You’re going to wake up one day after having slept on that thing with a serious back problem. You need a new one.”

“Amy –“

“No. Look, I care about you, alright? And you need a new mattress. So we are not spending our nights together until you finally get one.”

It would have felt like a threat to him, a my-way-or-the-highway type of situation, were it not for the slight smirk she’s currently wearing and the teasing lilt to her voice.

It isn’t a threat; it’s a challenge.

“As if you could resist my God-gifted body for that long. Face it, I’m gorgeous.”

“I bet I can get you to buy a mattress before next week,” she fires back, grinning.

“What are you going to do? Seduce me into buying one?”

“Yeah,” she says before throwing her door open and pulling her vest on, motioning for him to follow as she nods towards the building.

Their perp. Right in the middle of a drop-off.

Bingpot.

The arrests are made fairly quickly, and the couple manage to bring down two of the biggest Taxi distributors in the area.

Once they get back to the precinct, Jake swears he sees Holt smile a little, and Charles nearly faints of relief when he sees Jake and Amy talking again.  
Rosa proudly pats him on the shoulder and suggests they all go to the bar in order to celebrate.

Everyone, in true nine-nine fashion, agrees, and they make it a deal to meet at the bar in an hour. As they get ready to leave, Amy makes a big show of having to go home immediately, but promises to be at the bar on time, and walks over to Jake, giving him a chaste kiss before leaving.

“You better be buying that mattress by the time we go home tonight,” she whispers to him.

“Oh, Ames, but you know I won’t,” he says back, a large grin enveloping his features as she turns around and gets into her car.

He ignores the way her breath on his ear got his heart beating just a tad bit faster.

He hops into his car and makes his way home, grabbing a snack and throwing away his tie before (dramatically) flopping onto his couch for the next half an hour. He tries texting Amy, but she won’t talk to him, telling him she’s busy. (Like hell she is. He knows the woman, and all she’d had planned for tonight was a nice old CSI: Miami marathon.)

When he finally does arrive at the bar, Rosa, Charles, and Captain Holt are there, seated at a booth near the back of the bar, drinks already in hand. He joins them after getting his own beer, and he isn’t even sated when Gina comes in behind him, asking him about Amy.

“Where’s your girlfriend, pup?”

He offers her a shrug as an answer, and does his best to ignore the follow-up questions coming from his best friend.

“Seriously, Charles, Amy and I are fine –”

You ever have those moments when your breath catches in your throat when you see something pretty? It’s like, you’ll be looking at something, something you’re used to seeing, and suddenly the world just kinda stops for a second and you’re just there, completely overwhelmed by how insanely beautiful that thing is? Because when Amy walks into the bar right then, making her way over to him in a simple black skirt and a matching halter top, her hear let loose so that it flows gently over her shoulders, wearing goddamn heels, for God’s sake, that’s exactly how Jake feels.

And he apparently isn’t the only one floored by her beauty, because he hears whistles in the background as she walks over to their table.

His hands are already balled into fists, ready to punch out the catcalling suckers, before he realizes that the catcalling suckers are Rosa and Gina and lets himself relax a little.  
This time around, he can’t ignore the way his heartbeat increases.

“Damn, girl,” Gina says, raising her eyebrows at his girlfriend as she takes a seat next to him, “Why you so dressed up?”

Amy takes a second to glance at him before answering, and it takes him all of his strength not to just grab her face and start honest-to-heck making out with her right there, in front of Charles and Holt and any other loser that might be watching them.

“I felt like it,” she says.

“You look hot,” Rosa comments, taking a swig of her drink and raking her eyes appreciatively over Amy’s outfit.

“Thank you,” Amy replies, nodding and smiling and holy crap, he wants to kiss her so much.

He realizes that there technically isn’t anyone stopping him from stealing an innocent little kiss, so the next time she turns to share a look with him, he places a hand on her cheek and begins pulling her towards him before she turns the other way, talking to the others.

“Did you guys know that they opened up a new furniture store near my place? It’s got awesome deals on pretty much everything.”

Her question is met mostly with confused expressions, but Charles is quick to reply.

“Yeah. It’s got things for half the price of other stores. Like –”

“Like mattresses,” Amy says, placing a hand on Jake’s thigh under the table. “They’ve got mattresses for half the price of other stores.”

“Yeah, mattresses. Hey, Jakey, didn’t you need to get a new mattress?”

Some traitorous, cheating bastard of a best friend he was.

“I, um,” Jake starts, placing a hand on Amy’s to stop her fingers from scraping her nails on her jeans, dangerously close to the inside of his thighs.

“Jake hasn’t bought the new mattress yet,” Amy supplies for him, wiggling her hand free of his and carrying on with her ministrations. “He doesn’t have the money for it, apparently.”

He glances down at her, trying his best to avoid how full and tempting and right there her lips are, when Holt speaks up.

“Well, Peralta, a fifty percent discount is a huge one, indeed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It can be proven an advantageous investment in the future.”

“Yes – yes, sir.”

And now he’s really, really trying to ignore the way Amy’s moved their joint hands from his laps to hers, how he can feel her bare thigh under the palm of his hand, her smooth, cold skin under his rough fingers and oh shit he’s lost this bet.

Amy seems to come to this same realization as well, because she offers him a sweet smile and excuses herself to go to the restroom real quick.

He waits for a while before standing up himself, ready to go find her and slam his face against hers and possibly (most likely) do a lot more, scrambling for an excuse to walk away.

“I’m uh, going to, you know, go over to the –there and, um, you know what? I’m a sexually frustrated man and you’re all going to have to deal with it like grown adults!”

“Jakey’s going to bonetown.” he can faintly hear Gina whispering, but he refuses to acknowledge anything as he pulls his phone out and opens the web browser.

He finds Amy right outside the women’s room, with her back leaning against the wall and a proud smirk on her face.

“I had a feeling you’d come,” she teases, and before his mind can even come up with an answer, he’s crashing his lips onto hers, sliding an arm around her waist to pull her close as one of hers slide up and around his neck, the other hand resting flat against his chest.

“You look good,” he says to her in between kisses, his smile matching her own as she pulls back, resting her forehead to his.

“Too bad kissing is all you’ll get.”

He shakes his head at her, a chuckle escaping him as he pulls his phone out from his pocket and showing her the lit screen.

Her eyes scan over the order confirmation.

“Because you’re worth it, Santiago,” he whispers, pocketing the device once more. “You win.”

She beams at him, and it’s that smile she smiles that makes him feel like everything in the world is alright.

“We might want to say goodbye to the others before we leave.”

“About that,” he quietly says, “I may have told them we were going to have sex?”

“You what?” she asks, eyes widening a little.

“Um,” he starts, trying not to ruin the mood, “I may have implied that we might not be going back?”

“Well,” she sighs, “I guess it’s for the better.”

And as he proves to her when they get to her apartment later, it’s definitely for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> I've got another three prompts lined up, and I promise I'm trying to get them done before Monday. Sorry and thanks for being a patient bunch!


	6. Hold your breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 6:
> 
> You've seen her pin men the same size as Terry against a wall in one, swift move. You've seen her chase perps down fifteen blocks and still catch up to them, tackling and cuffing them like the badass she is. You've seen her shove her hand down some stinky guy's throat to salvage evidence that the bastard had swallowed. Heck, you've even seen her go through an entire episode of Spongebob with even cracking a smile, simply because you'd dared her not to.
> 
> You know she's strong. You know she can take care of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr:  
> hey if you're currently taking prompts: can u do a fic that takes place during "maximum security"? if ur not taking prompts apologies, just disregard this lmao. thank you, love your writing!
> 
> I tried my best, and it seems a little weird maybe, but all in all I'm proud of it. I hope it meets your expectations!

You know she's strong.

You've seen her pin men the same size as Terry against a wall in one, swift move. You've seen her chase perps down fifteen blocks and still catch up to them, tackling and cuffing them like the badass she is. You've seen her shove her hand down some stinky guy's throat to salvage evidence that the bastard had swallowed. Heck, you've even seen her go through an entire episode of Spongebob with even cracking a smile, simply because you'd dared her not to.

You know she's strong. You know she can take care of herself.

But that doesn't mean that you won't do everything in your power to keep her safe while she's here, unarmed and alone, surrounded by some of the country's most dangerous women in this hellhole of a prison.

She pleads you to trust her, to have faith in her, and you do. If there is any woman in the world (besides Rosa) that you think can tear down the world around her in a single heartbeat, should she choose to do so, it's Amy Santiago.

And somehow, despite all that, your heart beats about ten times faster everytime she and Maura Figgis are in the same room. Your hands begin to shake, sweat making its way down your forehead as Charles ensures you that she's okay, that she's safe. You look at her through the small screen, silently yelling at her to run away, to hide, to go somewhere and be safe.

But she doesn't, because she's a tough, badass cop who needs no knight in shining armor to save her, and you watch her as you hold your breath.

It's wrong of you, you know that. You know it's unfair to her that you keep pulling her out of these situations simply because you're too afraid to see her get hurt but, really, can she blame you for being terrified?

She's the woman you love, your partner in (solving) crime, your closest friend, half of the reason you breathe. Is it really your fault if every time you see an inmate walk in her direction, holding anything that could potentially be used as a weapon, your lungs stop working? If it seems as though the only thing that matters in that moment is that she's safe, and that no matter how hard you try, your body refuses to take in the oxygen it needs until you've pulled her with you into your makeshift office, away from anyone that might try to take her away from you?

Eventually, she follows you into your office, yelling out that your order to her was crap, that you don't trust her, that you don't think she's tough enough. She tells you that you'd never tell Rosa to back off.

She doesn't ask why, but you still tell her.

You tell her you're terrified. You tell her, without words, that if anything were to happen to her, you wouldn't ever be able to breathe again. You tell her that you trust her, and that you have to leave, and if that isn't the hardest thing you've had to do recently, you don't know what is.

You feel a weird kind of ache when you step out of the prison, leaving her in the capable hands of your best friend, and in her own capable hands, too.

Every breath seems like it's a bit of a chore, but you try your best to breathe, anyway. She'd want you to be breathing when she gets back.

Because she will get back. Safe and sound and perfect and yours and safe, safe, safe.

You know this. You know it with every fiber of your being.

And still, as your flight begins its ascent, taking you back to Brooklyn, back to where home should be, you can't help but hold your breath.

Because breathing only comes easily when you can make sure that she's doing it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> You guys know the drill, find me at colourcodedbinders on Tumblr!
> 
> You guys are the best and I appreciate everyone who leaves kudos, comments, or prompts for me. It means a heck of a lot.


	7. How dare you march into my heart?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 7:
> 
> Suddenly, she's terrified.
> 
> Because Jacob Peralta was never a part of the plan. He isn't in the many, many charts she's constructed over the years, fleshing out her life in front of her. 
> 
> There isn't a section in the binder for Jake.
> 
> OR
> 
> What happens when I write while listening to Alessia Cara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on tumblr: Idek if this is a good prompt ... but a fic from Amy's POV of the song I'm Yours by Alessia Cara?
> 
> I hadn't heard the song before this, so what I did was basically listen to it twice before spewing this out, all in the span on 15 minutes. I hope it didn't turn out too bad. I really, really like the song though, so thank you for that!
> 
> Title from aforementioned song.

Amy Santiago thrives on orderliness. 

Her life is a beautifully organized binder, with the colorful separators and all, in which she can classify every moment of her life as it happens. She has a section for the moments of which she's proud, the moments she wishes she'd forget, the moments she'd want to relive, and even for the moments that were so spectacularly ordinary that she has no opinion of them.

Her world is neat, it's responsible, it's safe. And when it gets lonely, because it does, she's able to ignore it because she's got a plan. And according to her plan, she's headed for the top.

She's got her entire future planned out. She knows when she'll take her sergeant's exam, when she'll move on to become a lieutenant, and when, eventually, she'll be given her own command. She knows what kind of man she wants, the approximate age at which she wants to get married, how many children she wants, and even what school they'll go to, once the time arrives.

And then Jake Peralta happens. He comes crashing into her life, with his contagious smile, sparkling eyes and an intense passion for his job that she secretly admires.

He's a co-worker at first, nothing special, but over the long years of partnership on the field, they develop a solid, close friendship. And then, just like that, they become something more.

He goes from co-worker to friend to boyfriend, hurtling himself at her, his stupid jokes making their way into her life as she has no way to stop them. 

And suddenly, she's terrified.

Because Jacob Peralta was never a part of the plan. He isn't in the many, many charts she's constructed over the years, fleshing out her life in front of her. 

There isn't a section in the binder for Jake.

She wants to be mad at him, she wants to punch him where it hurts the most for making her feel like she's the only woman in the world, for showing her what true happiness is, for being her favorite partner, both on the job and in life. She wants to pull his hairs out, one by one, for making her smile until it hurts, for making her realize that life isn't all black and white, for making her feel like everything in the world is right when he holds her.

She wants to beat him with a stick for making her fall in love with him. For making her love him so much that her day feels incomplete without hearing one of his stupid "sex tape" jokes, so much that she knows that, in a heartbeat, she'd burn the world to ashes if it meant making him happy.

So much that, when she pictures her future now, she doesn't see charts and graphs and calendars anymore, but rather his face at the end of aisle, wearing a classy black tux, eyes brimming with tears as he looks down at her like she's his entire life. She sees the pride in his eyes when she's promoted to Commanding Officer, the worry in his eyes when their child gets sick, the absolute devastation he wears when she tells him that TV's broken and that they might have to skip their Die Hard marathon that weekend.

Suddenly, he's come into her life and spilled a ton of orange soda all over her binder, her charts, and she's surprised to see that she doesn't mind in the least. 

He isn't neat, or responsible, or safe. But he's hers, and she's his, and she doesn't know any other way this could have turned out. He's her favorite mess, her burden to bare, her risky adventure to live. He's everything she hates come together to make something she loves more than herself.

He's the fire that's burned down her walls, the light that's made its way in through a crack in the ceiling, a boulder that's forced open her doors. 

She wants to be furious at him for taking her perfectly planned out life and fragmenting it into a million pieces before shoving those pieces into a box and shaking them so that she can't reconstruct any of it over again, but all she can manage to do is open her heart up to him and welcome him in.

She lets him in, lets him become her life and lets herself become his as they make their way through the perfectly unruly chaos that is their life together.

He comes into her life like a hurricane and somehow whisks her away from everything she'd once known while she stands, under his pouring rains, with her arms spread wide, welcoming the storm.

And she knows, she knows that no matter how much she planned ahead, no matter how many binders she filled, no matter how many charts she drew, nothing could have ever prepared her for how much she loves Jake Peralta.

And she doesn't even mind a bit. Because she's his, and he's hers, and this is perfect beyond anything she could have ever prepared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW THE DRILL! HIT ME UP ON TUMBLR! COME INTO MY ASK BOX AND BE LIKE "YO ANDY WASSUP"!!! 
> 
> Hope you didn't barf :)


	8. White like the moon, bright like the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White is the colour of the dead and nearly dying. White is the colour of people who have no more purpose in life. White is the single most abominable colour to exist.
> 
> And yet, when he sees Amy in that beautiful dress at the other end of the aisle, white is the only colour that's ever mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andy to Andy: Oh look it's the colour white!
> 
> Andy: ...Okay?
> 
> Andy: Write something about it.
> 
> Andy: ...
> 
> Andy: ...
> 
> Andy: ...
> 
> Andy: you gotta

Jake's always hated the colour white. It's bland, it's boring, and what's the point of a colour if its literal Google definition is _absence of colour? ___

__White is the colour of all evil. White ice cream? He doesn't mess with that. Everyone knows that Cotton Candy Swirl is the way to go. White milk? Who would even ever _think _about it when chocolate milk is a thing? White walls, white clothes, white hair? Nasty. All of it. White is the colour of the dead and nearly dying. White is the colour of people who have no more purpose in life. White is the single most abominable colour to exist.___ _

____And yet, when he sees Amy in that beautiful dress at the other end of the aisle, white is the only colour that's ever mattered._ _ _ _

____White suddenly becomes so much more than a void, an empty space begging to be filled. White becomes the way she balances him out. It becomes Amy, with her quirks and flaws and her impossibly kind heart, walking towards a future with him, holding his hand, his heart, his entire life in her palms. White becomes the way she smiles at him after she says "I do", the way his breath catches just slightly right before their lips are about to meet._ _ _ _

____White becomes the tears that flow out of Charles as he excuses himself off the podium, unable to finish his speech. It becomes the laughter Gina manages to pull out of their guests as she takes over._ _ _ _

____White becomes the memory of their first dance as a married couple. It becomes Camila Santiago's charmed smile when he leads her to the floor. It becomes Captain Holt's hopeful expression as he holds his arm out for Amy to take._ _ _ _

____It becomes the memory of their first night as a couple. It becomes the way they hold each other until their dreams take them away to a land that is somehow magical and yet nowhere near as perfect as real life. It becomes the way she looks in the morning, with the sun shining down on her at just the right angle, and the way her eyes flutter open when she feels the mattress shift beneath his weight._ _ _ _

____When Jake sees Amy in that dress, tears in her eyes as she looks straight into his, white becomes a promise to stay by his side and brighten his life until the end of hers._ _ _ _

____When Jake sees Amy in that dress, white becomes his favorite colour in the world._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> Why did I do this when it's not even technically a prompt? I do not know. Don't ask. It's so bad I'm actually in tears. Why am I like this? Please send help.
> 
> Also if you happen to not be able to send help, come yell at me (or give me an actual prompt) on tumblr :)


	9. Again and again, with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motherhood is a pain in the ass.
> 
> It is being a functioning police officer, solving cases and chasing perps, day after day, all on a mere five hours of sleep per night. It is seeing your house look like it’s been hit by a hurricane because babies are clingy and needy and don’t respect the fact that their parents need to clean, sometimes. It is forgetting what it feels like to sit down with your husband and watch a stupid movie, his head on your lap as you slowly run your fingers through his short curls.
> 
> It’s trouble and pain and fear and confusion, all wrapped into a tiny person that you’ve created.
> 
> And somehow, none of that has been able to convince Amy Santiago that just one kid is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr: Hi there! How are you? I hope you are well! Could you possibly do a jake/Amy Santiago fanfiction? Something about they have a baby and they both want another but are trying to tell each other this in hidden messages that neither of them get

Motherhood is a pain in the ass.

It is being a functioning police officer, solving cases and chasing perps, day after day, all on a mere five hours of sleep per night. It is seeing your house look like it’s been hit by a hurricane because babies are clingy and needy and don’t respect the fact that their parents need to clean, sometimes. It is forgetting what it feels like to sit down with your husband and watch a stupid movie, his head on your lap as you slowly run your fingers through his short curls.

It’s trouble and pain and fear and confusion, all wrapped into a tiny person that you’ve created.

And somehow, none of that has been able to convince Amy Santiago that just one kid is enough.

Somehow, despite the sleep deprivation, the chaos, the stress, and the constant running around, having Rae in her life for the past two years has only strengthened Amy’s desire for a large (not as large as her mom’s, though) family, with children running around her and Jake at weekend barbeques, on family vacations, around the dining table every evening.

Amy knows, realistically, that another kid right now would have its obvious setbacks. Recently appointed as a Lieutenant to her own precinct, she would have to find a way to deal with maternity leave and all its implications. She and Jake would have to find a way to make room for another kid; their two bedroom apartment can only hold so many people. They’d have to find a new house, manage their finances to be able to afford it, make sure it isn’t too far away from their precincts, and maybe change Rae’s daycare. They’d have to somehow manage to get through nine months of pregnancy without major disaster (and, speaking from experience, neither is particularly good at it) and then? Then, Amy would have to physically _give birth._ (And ask any woman, she’ll tell you that giving birth hurts like getting shot at by thirteen Icelandic mobsters at the same time.)

She knows that they’d have to face hurdles, but she’s willing. With her entire heart and mind and soul, Amy’s willing to face those hurdles if it gives her another child.

But first? First, Amy has to convince her husband.

Not that Jake has ever openly expressed that he’d be opposed to it. It’s just never come up after Rachel. The couple had gotten super busy in trying to figure out how to raise a child that they’d forgotten to check with each other and figure out if they’d ever actually want to do it _all over again._

Amy’s been trying to drop hints, recently, and she’s doing a pretty bang-up job, if she does say so herself. She purposely finds reasons to stay behind at the precinct so that Jake has to go pick Rae up at daycare, she goes out of her way to sign them both up to babysit Terry’s children, and for heaven’s sake, she makes the man watch compilations of funny babies on the damn internet.

But, true to himself, her husband remains the thick-skulled idiot he is and refuses to take a hint.

Well, tonight, Amy’s decided that she’s had enough of beating around the bush. Tonight, she is going to sit Jake down, well after Rae’s gone to bed, and speak her mind out. She is going to tell him that having Rachel has been the most wonderful experience of her life, and that, should he let her, she’d want to try to live it all once more. (She hopes with everything she has that he feels the same way.)

It’s all perfectly planned out. There’s spaghetti boiling on the stove, a DVD of “Die Hard 2” ready to pop into the VCR, and Rae’s bed is perfectly made and ready for the child to use when she needs it in two hours from now. 

All Amy needs to do now is talk.

Somewhere in the kitchen, her cell phone rings, the screen flashing her husband’s name, as well as a picture of the two of them, eyes shut tight with their faces pressed together, cheek to cheek, as they both stick their tongues out at the camera.

“Hey,” she greets him, stirring her homemade pasta sauce.

“Hey, babe, is it alright if Charles and Genevieve come over for dinner tonight?”

“What?”

“They’re renovating their kitchen. Replacing the tiles or something, I’m not too sure. Wasn’t paying much attention. I wanted to invite him over, but I thought I’d ask you first.”

“Well, thank you for that,” she sighs, turning down the heat on her stove and walking over to the cupboard. “Um, yeah. Yeah, of course they can come over. I’ll just - I didn’t make enough spaghetti for them?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. I’ll order pizza. Love you.”

“Love you.”

He kisses the receiver, telling her that he’s expecting reciprocation on her part as soon as he’s off of his shift, and hangs up. 

So much for talking to him tonight.

* * *

Jake comes home a half an hour later, grinning widely as he helps his daughter take off her boots and plops down on the couch, playing an old episode of “Paw Patrol.”

“Hey, baby,” Amy says to Rae as she comes out of the kitchen and sits down on the other side of her daughter, ruffling her hair. When Jake narrows his eyes at her, she reaches over and ruffles his hair, too. “Hey to you, too, grown man who wants to be treated the same as his toddler.”

“I believe I was promised a kiss, Santiago.”

“I made no such vow.”

“You did!”

“Did not. You told me you were _expecting_ a kiss. I never said I’d give you one.”

“You’re mean,” he frowns, before poking Rachel’s shoulder to get her attention. “Isn’t Mommy mean?”

“Mama mean!” the toddler gleefully replies, holding a hand up to Jake for a high-five. 

“That’s my girl.”

“And you expect a kiss after this?”

Her husband simply sticks his tongue out at her and turns to the TV again, reaching out to pull their daughter onto his lap. Slowly, Amy scooches over so that she’s seated right next to him, and puts an arm around his shoulders, leaning her head on him. She feels him tighten his grasp on Rae’s torso before his lips gently kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry the Boyles are coming over so last minute,” he whispers into her hair, “It’s just - he asked me at lunch today and then I had to go to court with Terry and it entirely slipped out of my mind that I should answer him.”

“It’s okay. Charles is here every other day anyway.”

He hums in response, and for the time being, all thoughts of serious conversation and baby discussion flicker in and out of Amy’s mind in a hazy bliss, and all she can focus on is the warmth spreading outwards from her content heart.

* * *

The three of them are right in the middle of a particularly intense episode of “Miraculous Ladybug” when their guests arrive. Charles makes his presence known with a tell-tale rapid, incessant tapping of his dainty hands against the wooden door, squealing in delight when Jake opens it up to them. 

“The Valentine’s Day episode?” Boyle exclaims when he walks in and sees the television screen, “This one’s my favourite! Marinette kissing Noir to bring him back to himself…” he sways a little on his feet, softly humming. “It’s beautiful.”

“Hello to you too, Charles.”

The detective’s eyes snap away from the screen and towards Amy, his entire face lighting up as he practically tackles her in a bear hug where she still sits. “Oh, Amy. I miss having you around the precinct. It’s so good to see you. So good.”

“We had lunch together yesterday.”

“And before, we used to have lunch together everyday! Don’t you miss it?”

Any reply Amy could have given is cut off when Nikolaj runs into the room, happily jogging over to give Jake a hug. 

“Jake!” the ten-year old exclaims, “Daddy’s been talking about how we’re going to spend the evening here! I’m so excited!” Then, stepping away and looking right at Amy, “ You both should have another baby.”

Amy sees Jake’s eyes widen as he hurriedly clamps a hand over the boy’s mouth, and the gesture hits her right in the chest, all hope for a second child starting to fade away at the sight of her husband’s panic at the mere _mention._

Said husband awkwardly laughs at the child’s exclamation, patting him on the back as he gently nudges him towards the couch and grabs his father by the arm, dragging him away into the kitchen. Amy tries to hide her disappointment as she scooches closer to her daughter, extending the arm on her free side as an invitation to Nikolaj, who simply shrugs at his mother and hops over to his godmother’s side. Genevieve makes a comment about the weather, hoping to lighten the mood, but drops it and quietly walks over to the loveseat when Amy’s response seems to lack the enthusiasm she tried so hard to fake.

* * *

“Charles! You told Nikolaj?” 

“It’s not my fault, Jakey. We Boyles don’t keep secrets from one another. You know this.”

“What, did you tell all fifty-six of your cousins, too?”

“No,” Charles blurts. “Only … forty-four of them. The others are camping and don’t have cell signal.”

Jake runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he leans towards the kitchen counter. Charles apologetically shrugs, walking over to stand right in front of his best friend. 

“I’m sorry, buddy, but I just got so _excited_ when you told me you wanted another baby. I had to tell my family,” Boyle squeals.

“You didn’t have to tell your child! He’s innocent and small and dumb! He could just… blurt it out to her! Wait, where is he? Did we just leave him alone with Amy? Oh my god.”

The detectives eyes widen comically before he swears and runs out of the kitchen, panic settling into his veins at the thought of Nikolaj, of all people, telling _Jake’s wife_ that _Jake_ wants another kid but is too scared to talk to her about it!

His sigh of relief is hard to conceal when he gets back to the scene, his wife and daughter comfortably snuggled up against one another, with Nikolaj quietly pressed into Amy’s side and Genevieve sending a small smile in Jake’s direction as the television in front of them plays the episode’s climax. Jake, despite the seemingly million and one teeny weeny little ants crawling up the insides of his stomach, tries to smile back, his gaze moving to settle on Amy. Charles follows him right out, nudging him with the elbow in a clear “don’t worry about it” manner.

“Anyone want to come eat?” Jake pipes up suddenly, grabbing the attention of the three people so entirely immersed in the television. “We have spaghetti with a side of Domino’s pizza.”

“Of course,” Amy says, moving away from the kids and walking towards her husband. “Dinner. That’s why you guys are here. I’ll go get dinner ready.”

“You okay babe?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m just chillin’.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Dinner goes by fairly easily for the first half, with Charles refusing to touch the, quote-unquote “disastrous deep-dish disgrace” that is the pizza, and Nikolaj politely asking for buttered noodles (which, of course, Amy had prepared right after Jake’s call). Conversation is rare for the most part, and Jake is eternally grateful for it, until Genevieve, who’s just come back from putting her dishes in the sink asks, oh-so-damn casually, “Hey, Amy, what’s your opinion on newborns?”

“I - uh - I - They’re cute?” Santiago sputters, abandoning her fork and pushing her chair back. “Adorable. Very nice. Newborns are very nice. Yeah.” She casts a nervous look around the table before attempting to flash a grin and clumsily picking her plate up and hurriedly making her way away from their guests. From her seat next to Charles, Genevieve gives Jake a hesitant thumbs up, and the latter simply nods in response. 

Why did he ever think this would be a good idea?

Amy, for her part, tries her best not to hyperventilate when she gets to the kitchen, throwing a glance in the dining room’s direction to make sure none of the others can see her. Is she being too obvious? Did she get drunk in Genevieve’s presence, recently? Did Genevieve get a hold of her diary and - no, no one knows about the diary. Not even Jake knows about the diary. Maybe she’s just reading too much into everything. People ask their friends about their opinion on babies all the time, right? 

It takes several deep breaths and a long, stern mental discussion with herself before Amy’s ready to join her friends at the table again, and she hopes to heaven that the shrug she gives Jake in response to his worried nod looks more convincing than it feels. Fortunately, if her behaviour indicates anything unusual, her husband willingly turns a blind eye towards it, reaching for her slightly clammy hand under the table and giving it a light squeeze. For a second, she allows herself to look him in the eyes and forget the sharp pain in her gut that emerges when she remembers his reaction to Nikolaj’s statement, his eyes wide and his lips parted like he didn’t know how exactly to calmly tell his godchild that _“No, Amy and I will not be having more babies, one’s more than enough for me.”_

Somewhere on the other side of the table, Charles coughs. “Oh. Oh sorry. I’m just uh, trying to - to, y’know, oh my God, Jake, I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?” Amy asks, gaze shifting back and forth between the two detectives. 

“Can’t stand to eat this disgusting Domino’s pizza! You’re right, Boyle, it’s nasty. We should go to the living room and watch TV in complete silence.” Jake practically jumps off his chair, never letting go of his wife’s hand, and tries to tug her away from the table. “Come on, guys. TV time!”

“TV!” Rae yells out from her high chair, excitedly banging her tiny fists against the plastic tray, causing a hilarious mess. 

“No, honey, don’t do that,” Amy tries to calm down her three year-old, making her way to her and pulling her out of the seat, while Charles dazedly smiles at them.

“Aren’t young babies the best, Amy?”

“TV time!” Jake exclaims in a desperate attempt change the topic of conversation, “Charles, TV time. _Please.”_

“Too much TV is bad for the children,” Amy reasons. “We could play a board game?” She looks around the table, nodding when the opposition she’d expected from her husband doesn’t come. “I’ll just go clean Rae up and put her to bed; you guys set up.”

With a last unsure glance around the table, Amy takes their daughter into the bathroom. Jake makes sure she’s got the door closed behind her before he turns back to the Boyles, attempting to stare them down with a look he hopes is communicating his disappointment in the trio. 

“Subtle, guys. Real subtle. You’re freaking her out.”

“I’m sorry, Jake,” Genevieve whispers back at him, “but you didn’t give us much to work with.”

“It’s true,” Charles adds, “we’re dropping clues as slowly as we can, you know. It’s not our fault you married the human version of a panic button.”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about, Mister.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Charles -”

“I have something to say,” Nikolaj suddenly pipes up, eyes fixed on Jake as he motions for the man to come closer. Jake obliges, moving so that he’s within whispering distance from the boy. “I think you should just talk to her about it. Like grown ups.”

The detective straightens up, glancing down at his godchild with a sarcastic smile. “Great advice, buddy. Let’s go set up a board game.”

* * *

They pull out a “Monopoly” board and sit in silence as they wait for Amy, knowing full well that should they choose to manipulate the money without her present in the room, she’ll demand they put everything back in the box so that she redistribute it and make sure no one’s miscounted anything. (In her defense, they always _do_ miscount, and by they, they mean Jake, who somehow ends up with six hundred dollars more than the others every damn time. What’s weirder? Charles is usually the one who distributes the money.)

The three friends remain in an awkward silence until Amy comes back, now changed into her pyjamas with her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. Somewhere in a corner of the room, Nikolaj is seated with a Captain Latvia comic in his lap, occasionally smiling as he skims through its pages.

“You guys ready?” Amy asks, placing the banking rack onto her lap and separating the ones into four piles.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Ye-huh.”

“Almost as ready as a woman about to go into labour, yeah.”

Jake swears he doesn’t mean to get up and tackle his best friend the way he did, loudly shushing him while he awkwardly pins Charles to the ground, both their partners looking at them with their eyes wide in horror.

“Jake! Get off of him!”

The women try their best to pry the men apart, Genevieve staring at Jake in slight fear and Amy glancing down at him with a certain mixture of shock and disdain. From his corner near the back wall of the room, Nikolaj simply lifts his head up, makes eye-contact with Jake, and rolls his eyes before going back to to his book.

“Babe,” the detective suddenly says to his wife, a sudden resolution building up in his mind, “I think we need to talk.”

* * *

“Are you breaking up with me?” she teases once their guests are safely out of the room and on the balcony.

“‘Course not. Why would I do that? You’re the only reason I’m not in debt anymore.”

 _”Crushing debt,”_ she reminds him with a small laugh. 

“Don’t need to remind me.”

“So,” she tries again, “whaddya wanna talk about?”

He tries planning a mini-script in his head in the little time he has. Should he start with a formal greeting so she takes him seriously? Or maybe he should sit her down and hold her hands like they do in the movies. Should he excuse himself and type up a draft of what he’s going to say? Amy would love that, right? Or he could always do that thing where he presents his ideas like she taught him, in proper presentation format. What was it, again? Introduce yourself, ask a question, give the answer? No. It’s introduce yourself, give background information - wait, does he need to introduce himself? To his wife?

“Jake.”

“Mhmm?”

“You wanted to talk?”

_Okay, screw proper format._

“I want babies,” he blurts out, wincing a little at his blunt declaration, “I mean, I want one baby. One more baby, that is. With you. For now.”

“You - you want a baby?” she asks, suddenly grinning and taking a step closer to him. 

“Yes? I’ve been trying to drop hints, lately. I’ve been taking you with me to visit Cagney and Lacey more, and I’ve been only minimally complaining when you tell me to go fetch Rae from daycare, and I even sit through those weird funny baby videos you make me watch. But, naturally, I married the most oblivious woman in the world, so I invited Boyle over tonight to help… convey the message. Didn’t go very well.”

“Charles isn’t exactly the king of subtlety.”

“Still don’t know why I ever thought it’d work.”

“It did, technically.”

He smiles at that, gladly returning the embrace she pulls him into. “I guess,” and then, pulling back just slightly, enough to see her face, “So, baby?”

Amy laughs. “I’m not the only oblivious person in this relationship, Peralta. You think I make you watch funny baby compilations for fun?”

“They’re very entertaining!”

“True,” she admits, pulling him lower by the neck and kissing him, “but not nearly as entertaining as a real child.”

“I’d say we go work on that child right this instant, but the Boyles are still in the house and I’d rather not give Charles anything to talk about at work.”

She places a second, shorter kiss on his lips before pulling away and heading towards the balcony with the silent promise of _lots_ of baby-making once they find themselves alone.

(They do, and three months later, when Jake accidentally lets it slip during morning briefing that fatherhood’s knocking on his door again, Charles proudly takes all the credit for the quote-unquote “miracle”. Neither of them tries to prove him wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> I'm back, y'all! I'll write anything at all for you people, I'm telling you. Just leave me a prompt and I WILL DO IT. (I'm feeling unusually pumped; is that normal??? 
> 
> Comments are each worth fourteen blessings for our soon-to-be-married couple over here. (also I love validation. please give me the validation.)


	10. Just the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their son comes in the wee hours of the morning, just a bare half an hour before dawn, and the moment they lay eyes on his tiny, crying form, Jake and Amy Santiago-Peralta know that this is, without a doubt, another one of the most beautiful days of their lives.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Rachel meets Eli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on tumblr: You asked for prompts, so maybe Peraltiago baby #1 meeting their new sibling? Bonus points if they're not super happy because they think they're not as special now, and peraltiago comforting them
> 
>  
> 
> I DID THIS IN ONE SHOT WHILE BAKING AND DOING MATH AND JAMMING OUT TO SAM COOKE I'M SORRY
> 
> Thank you to everyone who suggested a name for Elijah! There were some really good ones, but I just kept Elijah because... Well, I don't know.

Their son comes in the wee hours of the morning, just a bare half an hour before dawn, and the moment they lay eyes on his tiny, crying form, Jake and Amy Santiago-Peralta know that this is, without a doubt, another one of the most beautiful days of their lives.

They love him unconditionally, as most parents do, tearing up at the sight of him in the faint orange glow that comes in from their room’s window, bathing their second child in the loving rays of a warm, familiar sun that rises with him. Amy refuses to fall asleep despite her husband’s thousand pleas, opting instead to lean into his chest, arms tightly wound around his waist as she studies the rapid rise and fall of Elijah’s chest while he calls all of those waiting for news on the other side of the line, his voice quivering every once in a while when he reassures one of their friends that _”Yeah. Yeah, he’s here.”_

Her efforts seem to have gone in vain, however, when Amy comes back to the bright blue skies outside her window and the sight of her husband, now out of her grip and in a chair next to Eli’s basin, cradling the baby with a wide smile she’s only seen a handful of times before. It takes a couple of seconds before he turns to look at her again, and his eyes widen ever-so-slightly when he sees her awake, before he looks down to their son again, angling him so that Amy has a clear view of the little boy.

“Hey, Eli, that’s your mama. She worked hard to get you here.”

“Sure did.”

“Look at how humble Mama is!”

“‘M allowed to be proud, Peralta,” she retorts, “Pushed a person outta me.”

“Yes, Eli, I love her even when she’s grumpy.”

“C’mere, punk.”

Her husband obliges, carefully getting off his seat and walking over to Amy’s bed, their newborn in his arms, slowly handing him to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead as Eli cuddle a little into her chest, already on the path to falling back asleep.

“He likes you,” Jake says, “Now we know he’s a true Peralta.”

Amy rolls her eyes at him, still swaying slightly under the effects of her overwhelming tiredness, dozing in and out until she feels her husband takes Eli out of her arms.

“Sleep, babe. I’ll wake you up when Rae comes to visit.”

True to himself, he does wake her up, but _only_ when their daughter comes with Karen, much to her dismay after she learns that she missed a solid fifteen minutes worth of Charles crying over their son’s sleeping body. (She’s informed of the fact that he wept over her own body, as well, but she elects to ignore that fact.)

Rae walks in holding her grandmother’s hand, a small frown firmly set in place on her unimpressed face as she lays eyes on her brother, immediately running over to take a seat on Jake’s lap and holding both of his hands in her own tiny ones. Amy raises her eyebrows in question, and from behind their daughter, Jake shakes his head in clear confusion before tightening his grip on the five-year old while Karen excuses herself and walks back out.

“Hey, baby. What’s up?”

“I missed you,” she mumbles, gaze fixed on the basin, where Eli suddenly begins to whine. Jake makes an effort to release herself from Rachel’s grip, but she only holds on tighter, growling a determined “no” as she forces him back into his spot. Amy’s eyes meet the sudden understanding in Jake’s, and she slowly makes her way to take her younger child in her arms, motioning for Rachel to come join her.

“You wanna come see him?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you excited to finally meet your baby brother?”

“No.”

“Rae,” Jake tries this time, “but you wanted him to be here so bad. What’s wrong now?”

“You’re gonna like him more now and I’m gonna be all lonely.”

It’s exactly the answer Amy expects from her daughter, but somehow she still manages to be surprised when the words come out. Her first instinct, as a mother, is to indignantly yell out a resounding _”What?! Of course not!”_ but before she can react, Jake’s got their little girl pulled further into him, nuzzling his nose into her curls.

“‘Course not,” he says (much more calmly than Amy would have done it), and gently pries her off of his lap, carrying her over to Amy’s bed and placing her right in front of her. “Mama has seven brothers, but your grandparents love her just the same.”

“That’s because Mama’s really good,” she replies, “Mama’s a magic fairy princess. You told me.”

 

“I said magic fairy _warrior_ , Rae.”

“What Daddy means,” Amy finally interjects, “is that you’re also a magic fairy warrior princess.”

“That’s what you mean?” Rachel asks Jake then, and he slowly nods.

“Exactly. You’re just like your mom and will therefore remain the most lovable of all human specimen ever until the end of times.”

“Jake.”

“I’m serious!” and then, to Rachel, taking a hold of her hand and bringing it to Eli’s who instinctively grabs a hold on her finger with his tiny fingers. “We’re always gonna love you the most. Only now we’re going to love Eli the most just as much.”

“You make no sense, Daddy.”

“Title of your mom’s late night show.”

Rachel somehow laughs at that, and carefully scooches off of her father, crawling over to Amy’s side.

“Is that what I looked like?” she asks, pointing at Eli, now squirming in Amy's arms, face twisted into a grimace that Amy somehow finds incredibly endearing.

“Just the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you didn't barf :)
> 
> This isn't my favorite, but it's here, and it's a thing, so enjoy??
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr at colourcodedbinders to yell about stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment here or at colourcodedbinders on tumblr! If you have any prompts, don't be scared to hit me up :)
> 
> Also IF YOU WANT TO HIT ME UP ON TUMBLR TO TALK ABOUT BROOKLYN NINE NINE YOU ARE WELCOME AT ANY TIME UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE.
> 
> Hope you didn't barf!


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